


The Spider and The Airport

by notyoursherlock



Series: HYDRA Peter Parker [2]
Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra Peter Parker, Whump, Winter, Winter spider, peter and bucky, spider - Freeform, winter soldier peter parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyoursherlock/pseuds/notyoursherlock
Summary: In Leipzig, Germany, the Avengers & co were fighting over a certain document known as the Accords. Both parties were there and the fight was kickstarted.If there's only supposed to be ten people, then who's this?





	1. The Airport

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic idea attacked me last night and I just had to write it. After I update 'What a Web Life Weaves', should I continue this? You tell me!

Humming lightly to himself, Spider constructed his L115A3. Attaching the stock and scope, he looked across the building he was on. This particular airport in Leipzig, Germany was empty, save for a select few. Setting up the mount he closed one eye and looked through the scope to get a better look at his targets.

 

Stark, Rhodes, Udaku, and Widow were facing off with Rogers and Lang. Anger took over his form. He absolutely _loathed_ the star-spangled man, although why he wasn’t exactly sure. Moving his sight, he saw in a building opposite of him Maximoff and Barton were laying in wait on the parking deck for something, perhaps to shoot the wire off of Rogers. Looking around once more, he smirked a little as he finally saw who he had originally come for.

 

The Winter Soldier was running alongside Wilson in the terminal. Pulling back, he saw a black figure, likely Udaku, run towards the terminal but get intercepted by a flying metal disc belonging to Rogers. Although Stark technically owned it.

 

Eh, semantics.

 

Standing from his rifle as he wouldn’t need it at the moment, Spider stretched both arms, metal and flesh alike, above his head, cracking his flesh shoulder. He was wearing his tactical gear along with his mask and goggles, having chosen to go with his glasses that clipped onto the back of his mask instead of the black charcoal he used for night missions. Checking his web shooters and ensuring they were in working order, although he had done that before he had even gotten into the country, he backed up a few steps before running and diving off the edge, catching himself at the last second with a well-placed web.

 

Pulling on the web he rocketed through the air, landed on the terminal windows and scuttled across, metal arm making light tapping noises. Through the glass he could see that Wilson and Winter had noticed him, conversing slightly. Webbing the side of the terminal, he swung outwards and went feet-first through the glass, effectively shattering the window and plowing into Wilson.

 

Rolling for minimal impact he swiftly stood and turned towards Winter, who’s eyes had gone wide. To his side, Wilson also stood. Before either of them could do anything, he rushed forward and caught the oncoming metal fist with no difficulty.

 

“Steve we have a problem,” Wilson said from behind him as he spun and swung a leg at Winter’s face which the soldier caught and flipped him. Placing his hands behind his head, Spider pushed himself forward and flipped upright, launching a web at Winter which the man dodged before they went at each other again. He felt his sixth sense spike just as Wilson collided with his left side at high speeds, both of them going sprawling, goggles tumbling off.

 

Rolling away from him, he jumped onto the wall, out of the way of Winter. Firing up his wings Wilson came flying directly towards him. Shooting two webs at the man, one blocking his wings from working, he launched off the terminal wall and twisted midair, using the momentum to throw the now flightless hero out of a terminal window onto the actual airport grounds.

 

Landing, he managed to swing himself to the side to barely avoid Winter’s fist. They exchanged a few blows before Winter managed to get ahold of his mask and flip him, said mask falling off and revealing his face. Charging forward and grabbing his former partner’s metal arm with his own metal arm, he braced his flesh hand on the man’s shoulder and twisted, bringing him to his knees and pulling painfully.

 

Shouting, Winter managed to speak through the crippling pain. “Peter, this isn’t you!” He pulled harder. “Snap out of it! Do you remember me? Remember how after every mission we would sneak out and steal sweets? Do you remember-“

 

The name was familiar, although he couldn’t place it, grasping at mental straws. Head hurting Spider shouted, “Shut up!” With that, he let go of the metal arm and grabbed Winter’s throat, twisting him around and slamming his back against the floor.

 

Gasping for breath as Spider slowly crushed his windpipe, Winter croaked, “You- you don’t want to do this. Plea-“ Cutting himself off with a cough for breath, Winter’s clawing hands fell to the sides and his eyes rolled back, fluttering close.

 

Just as the man under him was about to pass out, a heavy force collided with his left side, again. Flying off of Winter he bounced a few times and rolled to a stop. Bracing both arms under him, he took a deep breath and felt a few broken ribs before turning to look at the culprit.

 

Winter was still on the ground, although now he was gasping for breath. Standing in front of him was a magnificent red and gold suit.

 

Stark.

 

Growling, he forced himself to his feet and bolted directly at the man in the suit, only to be caught at the wrists. Wrenching his fists back, he managed to catch the man by surprise at how strong he was and got out of his grip, immediately bringing his metal arm back to dig in-between the metal plates of the suit and pull. He managed to pull the metal plate off halfway before Stark shot a repulser blast at his metal shoulder, not doing any damage but it knocked him off of the suit.

 

Glancing at Winter, he saw that the man was now hunched over on his knees taking much deeper and clearer breaths. Sixth sense blaring, he managed to avoid the first few projectiles but was unable to avoid them all, one sinking into his neck. Bringing his flesh arm up, he pulled what looked to be a tranquilizing needle out and stumbled slightly, advanced metabolism making it go into his system quicker.

 

Spider managed to go forward a few steps, glaring all the way, before the tranquilizer took effect and he fell into darkness.


	2. No Cinnamon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *violent flailing*
> 
> So I finally got another chapter down!! Yay to that!! But this is more of a filler chapter, setting up future events, so not much happens.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Slowly regaining consciousness, Spider didn’t move a muscle or show any outward sign of waking, keeping his breaths deep and even. He felt a slightly stiff, yet soft mattress underneath him, a pillow behind his head. Extending his hearing he heard a steady beep-beep-beep coming from the heart rate monitor next to him. He heard the soft buzzing of lights above him. Across the room he heard the quiet flipping of pages and clacking of keys. Taking in a deep breath he smelled antiseptic, telling him he was in some form of medical area.

 

It was all rather strange.

 

Discreetly rolling his wrists he felt metal restraints around them, likely strong enough to withstand his enhanced strength. Opening his eyes, he blinked them rapidly to get used to be bright white light and looked across the room.

 

A man was sitting at a desk typing away at a keyboard and occasionally flipping through a small stack of papers. He had short, curly hair, some scruff on his lower face and was wearing a purple sweater with tan pants. Glancing around the room showed that it was rather empty except for a few chairs, various medical equipment, and cabinets. Returning his gaze to the man in front of him he watched him type away.

 

A few minutes passed before the man stood and turned towards him, eyes temporarily widening in shock upon seeing him awake.

 

“Hello, I’m Doctor Bruce Banner,” the man introduced himself as he came closer, stopping just shy of the end of his bed. “You’re Peter, correct?”

 

He glared. Why did they keep calling him that?

 

“You’ve been unconscious for three days,” Banner continued, acting as if nothing happened. “If you would allow me to, I would like to check your vitals?” Spider’s sixth sense was alerting him, but not immediate danger. It was telling him to not anger this man. He sharply nodded once, head stuttering with the movement slightly. Never once in his life had he been asked to give consent to something. What all he could recall, that is. Smiling slightly, Banner stepped forward with a pad and wrapped it around his forearm, movements slow so he could see everything the doctor was doing. Slowly tightening it, he checked Spider’s blood pressure and looked satisfied as he took it off. Puttering about, the man did various checks and furrowed his brows slightly.

 

Turning to him he asked, “You have an enhanced metabolism, right?” Not waiting for an answer he continued. “You’ve lost five pounds in the days you’ve been unconscious. It’d have to be extremely fast for you to have lost that much without any activity. I’ll be right back.” And with that, Banner left.

 

Spider was… confused. HYDRA was never this kind to him. He’d never had a soft bed before this place, and the doctor was going slow so he could see everything and not get startled. It was all very strange. The only familiar thing was the smell of antiseptic and the gnawing feeling of hunger. Even the clothes were different. Looking down, he found that he was wearing a white shirt and grey sweatpants. While the type of clothes were familiar, the ones he was issued were never this soft, always itchy and grating at his senses. Breathing in he felt bandages wrapped around his torso, but they were now useless as his ribs were now fully healed.

 

About ten minutes passed before the door opened and Banner walked back in, carrying a plate of something. The doctor approached his bed, gently setting it down on the table to his right.

 

“I’m going to have to take your restraints off so you can eat. Are you going to attack me?” Banner gave him a stern look, but he refused to back down. A minute passed before Spider shook his head. He found himself liking the man, which was a bit alarming. He wasn’t supposed to have emotions. Banner pressed his thumb against one of the metal bands encircling his wrists and they both fell open. Must be a hidden scanner.

 

Spider rubbed at his wrists, sitting up and pulling his legs up into a crossed position. It wasn’t hard to see that the doctor was nervous, but he couldn’t blame him. You know, enhanced HYDRA assassin and all that. Taking the tray, he set it on the lap, observing its contents. It was simply plain oatmeal and a few apple slices. Even though he didn’t want to eat, he grabbed the spoon and began eating. He didn’t want to risk getting on their bad side. There was a chance it could be poisoned, but why would they go through all the trouble of taking him prisoner and then killing him?

 

Taking a sip from the glass of water at his bedside table, Spider set the tray aside, food mostly eaten. Stomach far too full and aching slightly from the food, he stared at the doctor who was sitting at the desk once more. When Banner noticed him staring, the man simply smiled and went back to his work. Why didn’t he redo the restraints? Perhaps it was a ploy to create a false sense of security within him. That, or they were just waiting to torture then kill him. Maybe they had an ulterior motive.

 

Yeah, that seems most likely.

 

Not knowing what to do Spider looked around the room, subconsciously mapping every possible exit and advantage point. A few hours later, as he was counting the floor tiles, the door swung open. Tony Stark strode in wearing an immaculate three-piece charcoal suit, iconic sunglasses nowhere in sight

 

“Peter, is it?” Stark asked, pacing a short distance a few feet away from the end of his bed. “I thought, still think, that it was, and is, rather odd that HYDRA suddenly is making an appearance out of the blue. Every HYDRA base in the world has been destroyed, all their information combed through.” He stopped, looking Spider in the eye. “So why haven’t we heard of you?”

 

Spider held his gaze, speaking for the first time since Germany. “According to HYDRA, I don’t exist.”

 

Stark looked confused for a split second before it was covered with nonchalance. “Really? We have a source that state otherwise.”

 

Ah. “By ‘source’ you mean Asset.”

 

“That isn’t his name, but sure.” Stark stuck both hands in his front pockets. “So, are you gonna tell me what you mean by ‘according to HYDRA you don’t exist?’”

 

Spider grinned, all teeth. He could practically smell the unease coming off the outwardly composed billionaire. Moving his metal arm, he began tapping a steady beat on the medical bed rails.

 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

 

The metal on metal impact gave it a rather eery effect, echoing through the room. A few minutes later, when it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything anytime soon, Stark left the room.

 

He didn’t stop tapping until the doctor left two hours later.


	3. Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!
> 
> Sorry I'm getting this chapter out so late. It's been so long since I last updated, but at least I'm updating now, right?
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is a satisfying length and I hope you enjoy!

The next day Spider woke alone, which he definitely preferred over having someone else in the room.

 

Didn’t mean he wasn’t being watched.

 

Replaying Germany’s events, he sighed at the loss of his loyal rifle. He wondered what became of the airport fight. It was so painfully idiotic of them to split over something that was so trivial, so easily solved. Sure, he could see why the Accords were such a big deal, but they could have just edited it. It hurt him to even think about it.

 

Vienna. Zemo was just a HYDRA wannabe. His disguise wasn’t even good. The shoulders were off, and the shirt he worn would have been caught up if it was actually Asset. They were the same height yes, but the build. The _build._ What reason would Asset even have bombing the International Center? He was on the run. Bombing such an important building, any building at all, would be one of the last things he would do.

 

Bah. He was getting off track.

 

Coming back to the present, not that he was ever actually not aware, he looked about the room. Nothing major had changed, just a few papers here and there. Sitting there, he thought about many things as he waited for someone to appear.

 

Thirty minutes later and nothing had happened. Bored as all hell, Spider got up, popping what felt like every joint, a nice burning in his muscles. Straightening, he went about the room. He didn’t open any drawers, but he did take a stack of important looking medical papers and a pen. Crawling up the side of the wall, he went into the corner furthest from the door and began doodling on the papers, making sure to go all over the words.

 

The day went on and nobody came in.

 

Internal clock telling him that it was nighttime, he hung off the ceiling and dropped noiselessly to the floor. Setting the papers back where he found them, reluctantly putting the pen down, he sat on his bed. It was much softer than he was used to, but he was quickly adapting as always. Wriggling under the covers he shut his eyes, falling asleep as if a light switch had gone off.

 

——————————————————————————————————————————

 

Spider woke in the morning to find a tray of food on the counter where the papers were, said papers nowhere to be found. He slipped out of bed and walked over, gingerly picking up a piece of cantaloupe. Still not opening drawers, he munched on the melon as he collected various loose materials. Satisfied with what he had, Spider plopped down in the middle of the floor, swallowing the last bit of fruit, and got to work.

 

It was surprisingly pleasant to take the pen from yesterday apart and put it back together, learning how the pieces that made up the writing utensil fit together and worked. He didn’t actually make anything, but taking the things apart gave him something to do.

 

Night once more, Spider left the rest of the tray and it’s contents alone.

 

——————————————————————————————————————————

 

The next three days continued relatively the same. Nobody came in to feed him or talk. It didn’t take long for him to become bored, but he was good at this game. So, he simply sat. Not moving a muscle, he didn’t get up to move and nor did he sleep. He had slept way too much, and it was, as much as he hated admitting it, making him slow. The fruit on the counter hadn’t been touched, and was slowly spoiling.

 

On the fourth day of his vigil, someone finally came in.

 

Sam Wilson, more commonly known as Falcon, stepped into the room. Quietly closing the door he took the seat closest to him. He noted the man’s left arm in a sling, likely broken or fractured from when Spider threw him out a window. Spider turned his head away, closing his eyes again. Listening for any movement he heard none, but didn’t let his guard down. A few minutes passed and he heard the shuffling of papers. Cracking an eye open he saw the veteran struggling to keep a book open and he closed his eye once more. The man could expertly fly a pair of mostly experimental wings and accurately shoot two submachine guns but he couldn’t read a book with one hand. Pathetic.

 

The shuffling of papers slowly stopped, a page occasionally being carefully flipped. Spider left the man to his book, not caring what he was reading. The two sat like this for the next two hours, Wilson clumsily reading his book and Spider meditating.

 

Still listening, Spider heard the other man in the room shut the book and toss it onto the counter. It skid a few inches, bumping into a pen. Opening his eyes he turned his head to look at him.

 

The dark-skinned man stared back, confidently meeting his unwavering gaze. Neither backed down, and neither attempted to overcome the other.

 

Wilson broke first. Shifting into a more comfortable position, he started to talk. “I’m Sam Wilson, you can call me Sam.” Call him by his first name? Absolutely not. It must be a lure to trust him. “What can I call you?”

 

Spider scrunched his eyebrows minutely, but he could tell by the flick of the man’s eyes his trained sight caught the movement. Why would he ask what to call him? His name was Spider. He didn’t choose it, as was the life of a weapon, but he was given it and he wasn’t going to let go of it anytime soon. “Spider.”

 

Eyes nearly rolling into his brain Wilson sighed. “You’re name, dimwit. That isn’t your name.”

 

“Yes it is.” What was a dimwit? He had heard the term, or whatever it was, in passing. It had been used in both aggressive and fond ways, so the meaning of the word escaped him.

 

“No, it isn’t. That’s what HYDRA called you. Doesn’t mean it’s your name.” The veteran had a look of pity on his face. A look of understanding. Another lure. And how could he possibly understand?

 

“It’s the name HYDRA gave me. HYDRA gave me everything.”

 

“But did you _choose_ to use it?”

 

Spider frowned. He did not understand what the question meant. “Weapons don’t choose. They operate on what they are given.”

 

Wilson looked perturbed and unsatisfied by the question. Was this a test? “You aren’t a weapon. You’re _human._ You have feelings, emotions. You feel pain, sadness, happiness, excitement, all the good and the bad. Tell me, does a weapon feel emotions?”

 

If this was a test, he certainly was failing. What was he supposed to answer with? Weapons weren’t supposed to feel emotions, but he was a weapon and he felt emotions. So yes? But they weren’t _supposed_ to, so no? His legs and arms began to feel floaty, kinda like they weren’t actually there. This wasn’t anything new, and happened often. He hadn’t died or been compromised by it, so it was unimportant. “No.” He prided himself when his voice came out unwavering, but also scolded himself when it wasn’t very strong.

 

“Do you feel emotions?” He didn’t reply.

 

Wilson nodded and Spider felt like the man could see right through him. “So, if you’re human and you feel emotions, are you a weapon?”

 

Not knowing what to answer with, he began to internally panic. Very slowly he began positioning himself to pounce or flee, whichever would be needed, but Wilson noticed too quickly. His unbroken arm flew to the gun hidden on his hip that Spider noticed when he’d walked into the room, but before the firearm could be drawn he attacked. Flying through the air Spider tackled the other man, knocking the chair over.

 

Wrenching his hand away from the gun Spider drew it for himself, pressing it against the hero’s forehead. _‘Kill him. He will only delay the mission,’_ he heard his handler say in his mind. Without a moments hesitation his finger tightened against the trigger, ready to put a bullet in his brain.

 

Before he could shoot, Wilson slammed his injured arm into his head. Tumbling off Spider cursed himself for not taking desperation into account. People would do anything to survive, even if it meant hurting themselves further.

 

The gun was now across the room, having been knocked from his grip and flown into the wall. Growling he spun into a crouch, jumping to grab the lost gun. Something wrapped around his middle tightly and he crashed just a couple feet from his goal. Snarling, Spider wrenched the arms off of him, which wasn’t hard since one of them was injured, and threw the offending person across the room.

 

Wilson cursed as he hit the hospital bed, and could only watch and attempt to get back on his feet as Spider finally grabbed the lethal weapon. Just as the assassin turned around to shoot, the hospital door slammed open and the just attained item flew away once more.

 

Bow lowering Clint Barton notched another arrow, ready to draw back and let fly in a moments notice. Next to him was the Widow, her deadly bites charged and knives ready to weave a deadly dance with blood.

 

Not wasting anymore time than he already has Spider propelled himself directly into Barton’s arms, forcing the man to drop his bow. While it was an unconventional move, it worked astonishingly well and he used the momentary shock to grab the archer’s broad shoulders and use them as a sort of base to push himself off and onto the Widow. He began to twist around her but his momentum was used against him and he fell through the air, now with the disadvantage.

 

The redhead was on his chest, strong thighs swinging around and clamping around his head, muscles working to incapacitate him. He managed to wedge his metal arm in-between her thighs and his airway so he could get some oxygen, and using his incredible strength and flexibility Spider drew his legs under her and kicked her away. An audible shattering was heard as she crashed through the glass to the hallway, but his attention was now brought to his other opponent.

 

The hero drew a dagger and fell into a defensive stance, which Spider countered with his own stance. Only a few seconds passed before the knife was flipped in his hands and Barton lunged toward him. He ducked under the arm, blade cutting through air, and grabbed his calf and pulled hard.

 

The man fell but rolled as he did, taking the brunt of the force on his spine. Spider jumped on him and was met with a cold metal on his neck. Undeterred he made no move to knock away the hand and revealed the knife he’d stolen off of the Widow’s form, pressing it against Barton’s jugular.

 

Testing the limits, he leaned further into the blade. It began cutting into his skin and he was about to draw back but the pressure was relieved slightly. Now _that_ was quite the advantage. Getting closer he was an inch away from the battle hardened agent, staring into the depths of his eyes.

 

His handlers always said that a person’s eyes told the secrets to their soul. Showed their true emotions, if you looked deep enough, that is. Personally, Spider found that this was true but a person’s eyes also reflected what they were seeing. In the shine of Barton’s eyes he could see himself staring back, a cold but slightly feral look on his face. Sometimes he wondered what his victims saw in his eyes. But, he sighed mentally, he guessed he would never know. Pressing the sharp metal deeper a red line appeared and a bead of blood gathered, trickling down behind the blonde’s head.

 

Before he could go any further, his sixth sense went off just in time for him to catch a large circular object flying in the air towards him with his metal arm. Gripping the shield Spider slung it back to it’s user, the star spangled man staggering from the sheer force of the throw. Seeing his opportunity Barton threw him off and stood, grabbing his previously discarded bow.

 

Picking himself up Spider stood, twirling the stolen blade in his fingers. Behind him was a likely reenforced wall, and in front of him was Hawkeye, Captain America, a Black Widow, and the now standing Falcon. Crashing through the wall behind him certainly wasn’t an option, but fighting four of the most dangerous individuals on the planet was very risky, even if one of them were down use of a limb.

 

So, weighing his chances Spider made his decision.

 

He leapt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes this chapter.
> 
> So I'm trying to get my other story uploaded, I just haven't had any ideas or motivation for it! It should have one last chapter, I highly doubt two.
> 
> The last part of this story was written when I was on steroids (the good kind) so I apologize for any and all inconsistencies and errors.
> 
> Thanks
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this first chapter! Please tell me if you would like me to continue this work.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome.


End file.
